Joke's on Me | George Weasley | Book 1

chapter 13 - no choice

Natalia stared down at the newspaper clipping she'd taken and kept in her drawer. There was no way people weren't going to find out. Someone would read something, Skeeter would publish something, and someone somewhere would make the connection.
She just wanted George to hear it from her first before anyone else found out and told him. Better coming from her, right?

He wasn't making it easy, keeping her smiling and laughing even when she felt most like screaming in anger and frustration or hiding from fear.

She shook the thoughts from her head, pocketing the clipping. She'd tell him tonight, out in the night, where they always found time to just be together, properly.

But first, the DA had another meeting, more advanced charms, and Natalia knew she was going to struggle. Especially if she hadn't practised as much as possible with George, which, seeing as Christmas had just gone and he and Fred were practically overrun with Owl Service orders, was entirely probable.

She ran off, making sure to dodge Draco and- well, everyone in Slytherin. It seemed they were all part of that damn inquisitorial squad, which just made Nat want to tear her hair out. She wasn't entirely past the urge either.
But then, she'd been thinking recently that she'd belong more there than in the DA. After all, these were the people she'd be fighting against when the war arrived on Harry Poter's doorstep, and she was learning from them, from Harry Bloody Potter as if everything was ok. As if she wasn't a Death Eater's daughter. As if she'd have a choice.

But she wasn't completely over the illusion, wasn't done pretending. Not yet.

**

Natalia stood in the Room of Requirement, in front of the mirrors where Harry had placed an old photo. She recognised his parents immediately, and Sirius Black... a few other faces seemed familiar, and she wondered if it was because of her mother or just because their kinds looked enough like them. It was difficult to tell sometimes, especially when she found it difficult to sort her own memories from her mother's stories.
She could feel George watching her, and she glanced to see him lingering behind her,

She pulled the two photos out of her pockets, staring down at them. It was finally sinking in, she was finally recognising her mother for what she was, finally coming to terms with it.
The photo from the frame in her room was a lie, a fragment of a fantasy land where happy endings existed. The other was the newspaper clipping. Reality.
"I don't belong in the DA."

"Don't be silly Nat."

"I'm not." She met his gaze in the mirror, feeling the transfiguration spell fade. She needed to look like herself for this, needed to look like her mother. Which was why she'd left her hair in its natural curls rather than straightening it.

George sighed, "come the war-"

"Come the war I'll be o the other side." She hung her head, not be able to hold his gaze, not with what she was about to say. If she waited, she'd chicken out, and he deserved to know who she was.

"What."

Natalia placed the photo of her and her mother on the mirror, keeping it there with a simple spell. "This- this was taken when I was nine. June twenty-eighth. My-" She cleared her throat, "-my dad took this. He's a muggle. I know most people think he was a wizard, a muggle-born, but he's from no magical descent."

George was right behind her now, staring at the photo over her shoulder. "You look so like her. She must have been young when she had you, she looks twenty-something there."

Natalia ignored him. "And this," she placed the clipping of her mother in Azkaban right beside it, "is Daphne Rosier."
She didn't need to see his face to know his reaction, but she turned, placing herself directly next to the photo. "Look familiar?"

"Natalia." He whispered, transfixed with the newspaper clipping.

"Everyone was right about me." She could feel herself putting her walls back up, building more and more until there was no room left and there was a whole ocean between her and everyone else. "I do come from some rich, pure-blood Death Eater family. In fact, my mother was definitely one of the worst, if you care to know why I'm sure your father can tell you why. So come the war, when it arrives - and believe me it will - I will be on the other side. I don't have a choice, Georgie."

He flinched at the nickname, his jaw clenched, expression otherwise unreadable. "You always have a choice, Natalia."

She could feel him trying to pull down her walls, trying to reach her, convince her.

"No, George. Not if I want to live. Not if I want you to live."